


the road gets tough (i don't know why)

by thisisthem



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Louis, Famous Harry, M/M, Non-Famous Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-08-27
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisthem/pseuds/thisisthem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>or. an au where things don’t go the way louis expected. and harry feels too deep for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the road gets tough (i don't know why)

**Author's Note:**

> this is so _incredibly_ self-indulgent. keep that in mind, you've been warned.
> 
> i apologize for the many lana del rey lyrics that made it into this thing.
> 
> i also apologize for the sentimental vibe going on in here. it's clear that listening to _the leftovers_ ' soundtrack on repeat while writing does not help the cause.
> 
> this wasn't beta'd. all mistakes are my own.
> 
> title from lana del rey's born to die. because of course.

It feels like something’s not quite right.

To be fair, it’s not an unusual thought in Louis’ head, but it’s not something that usually occurs to him in this setting.

Eleanor is walking in front of him, like always, making sure it’s safe to pass through and continue with their little plan. It’s not the first time they do something like this. In fact, Louis could probably say that ninety percent of their encounters go on this way. There’s something exhilarating about doing it in forbidden places, he supposes. Or maybe Eleanor is just an exhibitionist. He doesn’t know nor care to be honest. They don’t talk about the how’s or why’s; it’s not their style. Sex is just sex, in the end.

They walk a few more minutes and further ahead they can finally see them. The buses. The _tour_ buses. Giving it some thought, Louis thinks it’s probably the more adventurous thing they’ve ever done. Or the most adventurous place they’ve ever _done it_ in. Doesn’t feel any different though – at least to Louis. This _thing_ between them has been going on for a while now. Not too long to suffocate him, but long enough to feel safe and, most importantly, still _easy_. It’s probably not healthy. But most of Louis’ decisions aren’t either, so who cares.

There’s still a nagging feeling at the back of Louis’ head telling him this time isn’t gonna be quite like the others. Louis’s never been good at following rational thoughts, though.

He shrugs and continues walking.

When he looks up Eleanor has finally stopped at the door of one of the buses. There are two of them. Tour buses from an indie band he listens to sometimes. Louis barely knows them. They’re quite famous apparently but it’s just recently that Louis’ taken a shine to their music. Eleanor was the one to show them to him actually, one the few times they’ve done more than sex. Louis could count on a single hand the number of times they’ve spent just talking. It’s usually post-orgasm _bonding_ though; if you can even call it that. She told her that night about a group she just discovered. _They’re quite good you should give them a listen sometime_ she had said, then she joked _the lead singer is just your type_.

Sometimes Louis ponders how long they’re gonna last. He’s not afraid one of them will fall in love. It doesn’t work that way for them. It’s fun and all but they don’t have that kind of connection. Neither of them is looking for it anyways; specially Louis.

Sometimes Louis wonders if it’ll ever change; if there’ll be a time when he’ll be looking for _it_. It’s not likely.  He still wonders.

It’s been a few years since he started running. Feels like an eternity if you ask him. He doesn’t plan when he’ll take the next run; it just happens.  This is the first time it _feels_ like the time is coming, though. It’s not normal and he doesn’t know why the thought’s bothering him _today_ of all days. But like he said, he doesn’t _plan_ when to run and he won’t start doing it now. So he brushes the thought aside, like he does with everything else.

The door they’re presented with is surprisingly unlocked. Louis thinks they should’ve put some more security for such a famous band. But then again, they’re in a secluded parking lot no one is supposed to have access to. It benefits their purposes for the day, so Louis doesn’t give it more importance than necessary. Louis is volatile like that. Letting the waves carry him wherever. In this case, the waves are Eleanor; Louis’ lived worse.

She opens the door easily and pushes inside just as quickly, disappearing inside where the lights are off. Just as Louis’ about to follow her, a figure comes out of the other bus.

They make eye contact. It feels somewhat charged.

Louis looks at the person a few feet ahead from where he’s currently frozen in place. It’s a man. Tall – height noticeable even from afar – with long hair curling at his shoulders. He’s wearing a lavender sweater Louis could probably drown in and jeans so tight Louis wonders if his dick is still alive in there. As if Louis is one to talk though; he could probably compete with this stranger in the tightness area – no pun intended.  Louis’ gaze is stilling travelling by the man’s endless legs until he gets to his leather boots. When he lifts his eyes back to the guy’s face he finds some kind of _familiarity_. He can’t pinpoint why.

They stand there looking at each other until it hits Louis. _He’s the singer of that band_ he thinks _, that’s where I know him from_. Louis doesn’t panic per se. Although he wonders if the man’s gonna say something.

He doesn’t.

They stay like that for what feels like hours but are only a couple minutes. That is until Eleanor peaks her face through the now lit bus’ hallway – head not making it outside – and whisper-yells to Louis to get his ass inside. Louis turns to look at her and nods to calm her down. When he looks backs over his shoulder to check if the man’s still there, he sees him walking away in the other direction already. He climbs up the couple of steps to get inside and that’s that.

•••

Harry can’t stop thinking about the stranger from earlier during rehearsals. His face is like a melody; it won’t leave Harry’s head. He can’t keep himself from wondering what he was doing there, if he was alone, if Harry did the right thing not to alert security. He’s distracted from the start. And even though he tries not to be too obvious, the other three still notice. How could they not? Harry’s the lead singer to begin with. Niall playing the guitar, Zayn with the bass and Liam in the drums. Sometimes he wishes he was one of the others. Sometimes he wonders if it would be so noticeable when he gets lost in thought if he had an instrument to rely on instead on his voice.

Doesn’t matter either way. He’s still the one with the voice and when he misses a verse they all send him looks varying from vaguely annoyed to a little worried. The thing is, Harry has a tendency to let his mind fly away while others talk around him. He doesn’t know if it’s considered _daydreaming_ but there’s a million thoughts running through his head all the time and he can’t help getting submerged in them most of the time. It’s such a regular thing that no one says anything about it anymore. No one bothers him when he keeps quiet at random. Everyone’s already used to it.

They also take into consideration that it helps his writing.

Harry’s not very eloquent with words when he talks but when he gets in the right mind set it’s better that no one disturbs him. Great songs have come from it. Or so they say, what with the whole _continually growing fan base in such a short amount of time_ they have and all that. It’s true what people say about inspiration hitting you anytime, anywhere. It usually doesn’t happen during rehearsals though. Hence why the weird looks he’s receiving from his band mates right now. He usually tunes out the random thoughts that plague his mind all day long so he can put all his focus and heart into the songs he loves dearly and his performance.

They must perceive how distracted he is at the moment. They’ve known him long enough anyways. Nothing is said to Harry though.

They finish rehearsing and everyone starts dispersing, going backstage mainly to get rehydrated and chill for a bit before the concert. The rest of the boys ask Harry _if he’s following or what_. Harry shakes his head and tells them he’s a bit tired so he’s going to get some rest in the bus. He surprises himself when he asks them not to come get him until it’s necessary; he’s also surprised by them not giving him more than a few slightly concerned nods and let him be. He has the best mates ever, he’s sure.

Harry exits the venue and starts walking the path to the secluded parking lot where the buses are. When he arrives there, he stops in front of the bus from where he came out earlier and dares a quick glance to the other one. Harry knows he shouldn’t be thinking about it, but when his thoughts drift to the memory of a short brown haired man standing a few steps away from him, he can’t help wondering if he’s still there.

Harry’s making his way across the hard ground before he knows it. He opens the door with a soft _click_ and makes his way inside as quietly as he can manage. There’s the distinct sound of harsh breathing coming from the bunks and he follows it; his curiosity taking the best of him. The door that separates the bunks from the rest of the bus is slightly ajar and from this angle he can almost perfectly see the scene taking place in front of him.

There’s a girl, her hair falling to one side in front of her shoulder, exposing her sweaty back and her shifting muscles as she goes up and down on top of a guy, her hands on his chest to support her body movements. The guy, Harry notices, is the same one he saw when he came out of his bus earlier. He looks even prettier this way, Harry thinks; the faint artificial light coming from the roof gives him a soft glow. Harry can’t keep his eyes away, even when the girl covers more and more of him as she gets obviously close to the edge, if her shouting is anything to go by.

The man though, even though he’s gripping her hips tightly as if to prevent her from making a bad move, doesn’t seem that much into it; for a normal heterosexual guy having sex with a hot girl in a forbidden place, that is. The beautiful man has his eyes closed and Harry hasn’t seen him moving a muscle since he found them on the floor. Not even wandering hands, as Harry did when he was with girls back when he was still figuring himself out.

He must’ve zoned out for a second there because when he focuses his attention back to the couple, the girl is pushing herself up and starts gathering her clothes around the cramped space. Harry dedicates a brief half second to her actions before readjusting his attention back to _more important matters_.

It’s quite an intriguing image to say the least. It’s obvious they’re both exhausted, but from completely different things, Harry is sure. The guy is still on the floor, his dick _half hard_ lying on his hip. He’s staring at the roof, eyes fixed as if it were about to tell him the answers of the universe, just lying on the cold ground while his companion finishes getting herself ready.

 The silence is broke by her voice, the first sound in what seems to be a decade of muteness. “Louis, get off the floor. Are you gonna stay there the whole day or what?” It’s not meant in a harsh way, Harry can tell, more in a _hurry the fuck up before we get caught_ way, which is reasonable considering their trespassing; but Harry suddenly forgets his original string of thoughts because his mind is completely clouded by the new information.

 _Louis_. His name is Louis.

Such a nice name; fitting for a king. _Fits him well enough_ Harry contemplates. The stranger, who is in fact still on the floor, looking at his _something_ – Harry obviously doesn’t know what they are, but he doesn’t like the word _girlfriend_ in this situation – as if she had two heads. Harry notices the second he gets out of his reverie, _again_ , because that’s the moment when Harry gets out _his_ too.

The girl gives Louis one last look before she heads to the door where Harry is. The latter’s eyes open wide as a sunny side fried egg and he frantically scrambles to the nearest hideaway, which turns out to be the back of the door. She rushes past his hiding place to the front of the bus like a strike of lighting without looking back once, _thank God_. A few minutes pass, with Harry still catching his breath and calming his nerves at being almost caught snooping around; but no signs of Louis. Harry tells himself to _calm the fuck down_ and finally dares a look inside the small room. Louis is sitting in one of the bunks, not naked anymore save for his feet; what seem to be Vans discarded opposite him on the floor.

Harry’s not always been the best at making an entrance, everyone knows it. Nevertheless he’s sure he could’ve managed a smoother one than tripping with the side of the door and making the loudest noise in all the time they’ve spent there. Louis doesn’t even flinch though, just turns his gaze slowly from the opposite bunk to Harry.

Harry’s met a lot physically beautiful people before – fame gives you that opportunity –, although he’s sure he’s never been this amazed by anyone in such a short period of time. Louis is just. He’s just so _pretty_. Harry really shouldn’t get ahead of himself in this department because he probably won’t see this person ever again. However, he can’t help the itch at the back of his mind telling him to step forward and fall into nothingness; because that’s what’s going to happen if he doesn’t report Louis to his security guards right now. He’s always been stubborn, though.

Louis is still looking at him and Harry doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there by the door. He almost feels his legs giving out when Louis cuts the silence that’s formed yet again.  “I saw you earlier,” Louis lets out and it’s the most beautiful sound Harry’s ever heard, soft and high pitched and perfect.

In the middle of his overwhelmed fascination though, Harry registers what Louis just said and gives him a confused stare. The latter at seeing Harry’s expression continues, “When Eleanor and I made our way into the bus, y’know; but I also saw you, a few minutes ago, when we were fucking.” Louis’ face is stoic, not giving away anything. Harry still feels his heart picking up at the confession. 

 _Does this mean he thinks I’m a freak? Did he stay just to humiliate me and then escape? Why do I even_ feel _like there’s more to it?_ His inner monologue is cut short by Louis. “Relax mate, don’t look so petrified. I’m not even supposed to be here. It’s not like I’m in any position to say anything.” Harry frowns at that, because he is. “You are, though.” At this, Louis’ gaze deviates to the opposite bunk again. He chuckles lightly still not looking at Harry, “Am I, now? I invaded private property, _your_ property if it wasn’t clear enough. And for nothing, anyways.”

Silence follows the statement. Harry feels as if they were covered by this invisible blanket, so heavy neither can breathe beneath it, never mind _talk_. He knows he needs to somehow lift this metaphorical weight off their shoulders because the silence is becoming quite deafening, and if Harry’s thoughts are left to their own devices for much longer he’s sure he’ll get lost in the sonnets and verses he wants to write about Louis.

There’s also the fact that their time together is limited.

So he takes a few steps forward and when no reaction is provided by the other man, he takes the liberty to sit by his side. Not too close to overstep non-declared boundaries, but close enough to be considered _friendly_. Harry breathes in slowly and prepares to finally break the intensity surrounding the room.

Louis beats him there again. “This is kind of embarrassing, to be honest,” he says, even though Harry doesn’t think that’s the adequate word. “You practically saw me fail at sex,” he mutters quietly, maybe more too himself than to the man beside him.

“You didn’t fail at sex if you ask me. She was rather pleased at the end, I think.” Louis turns his head toward him once again. His look isn’t judging or freaked out like Harry feared. It’s not as blank as before either; there’s even an edge of amusement at the corner of his lips, dying to come out but not daring to.

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, as silly as it sounds, Louis finally surrenders to the ridiculousness of the situation and cracks the first smile since they’ve met. It’s _striking_ and Harry’s almost blinded by the beauty of it. He knows how he usually blows everything out of proportion, good or bad, but he genuinely thinks Louis’ smile is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And it’s just a small one.  He cannot fathom how Louis must look when he’s full out laughing, smile wide and happy. It must look ethereal.

“Okay then, I’ll give you that. Still, though. It’s quite embarrassing, you watching me lay there on the floor, cock not even hard enough to get off,” Louis sighs. The look their eyes share is probably considered too unwavering for a couple of stranger who kind of just met. It feels too comfortable too for the situation they’re in.

“I wouldn’t say you’re embarrassed. I’d rather use the term _frustrated_. Seems more fitting,” Harry starts, vaguely waving his hand in the air as if he were explaining something abstract while he tries to gather his thoughts together. “You’re not embarrassed, per se. You seem frustrated. You seemed frustrated then too. Maybe it’s not the action in itself that made you feel that way. Maybe it was just with her, maybe it just wasn’t working,” he finishes quietly.

Louis is still fixing him with that ocean-like gaze; so blue and deep and mysterious and a little bit scary and maybe even a bit lost. “You’re quite smart for a popstar,” he chuckles.

Harry wants to keep extracting sounds alike from Louis for the rest of his life. Still. “Hey,” he retorts, dragging the _e_. “I wouldn’t call us popstars. More like artists. We don’t even make pop music!” Just as he finishes Louis rolls his eyes, a tiny smile still playing on his lips. “Oh that’s right. You hipster kinds with your indie music and stuff. Getting defensive, aren’t we?” Louis laughs.

“We hipster kinds?  You’re the one who even knows we exist. You’re the one who got here from nowhere!” Harry scoffs, feigning being upset. His statement gets the opposite reaction from what he was looking for. Louis shaking his head a bit as if he were waking from a dream and adopting a firmer composure more guarded. “Yeah, sorry about that. I should probably go now,” he hears Louis say, eyes scanning the floor but not making any move to get up.

The thing is, Harry obviously doesn’t want Louis to go. However, he doesn’t know if he’s being too invasive if he asks again about what happened, just to keep him here a while longer, even though he looks as immobile and stuck to the mattress as a cactus on a desert. He decides the better chance he has at making Louis stay a couple more minutes is to speak up his mind; so he does just that. “You don’t have to go, you know,” he soothes whilst daring to put a hand on the other’s shoulder. Louis doesn’t flinch, just like when Harry entered the room. “You could talk to me about what’s bothering you. Some say it’s easier to speak to strangers about your issues rather than people you already know.” It’s Harry’s best shot, and it’s actually true what he just said. It is easier. It’s usually a pressure and judgment free space. Hence why therapists exist, in a society where everyone wants to be heard but no one wants to listen.

He feels Louis shift a bit under his hand so he lets it slide to his side. When Harry looks up he sees the other man repositioning himself, one knee tucked beneath him and one foot almost touching the floor. He’s now facing Harry directly, so the latter decides to mirror his action and puts one knee beneath him too. His other foot still touches the floor. _Louis must be tiny then_ , Harry muses. _So cute_.

He startles a bit when a hand suddenly appears in front of him. “Hi. My name’s Louis,” the boy tells him with expectant eyes. Harry blinks one, two, three times until his brain kicks into motion again. _Right, I wasn’t supposed to even know his name_. It’s creepy enough to know Louis knows he watched him having sex, but telling him that he already knows his name because of his snooping around seems to be pushing it. So he extends a hand for Louis to shake. “And I’m Harry.”

 _God_ , their hands fit perfectly and Harry is driving himself crazy. _Calm the fuck down_. He’s still firmly clutching Louis’ hand when the smaller man glances down with an amused twist of his lips. Harry is dying, he’s pretty sure, and heaven’s in Louis’ eyes. Back to important matters, he detaches their hands and waits for Louis to make the next move.

“So…” Louis starts but doesn’t expan.

“So.” Harry replies because what else can he do.

The boy opposite him fiddles with his fingers for a moment before opening his mouth again. “I’m not sure where to begin with.”

“What about the start?” Harry suggests, trying to lighten the mood with a joke. It instantly grants him an unimpressed stare. “Okay. Sorry about that. What about why were you having intercourse when you were not feeling up for it?” Seems like an okay start to Harry.

“ _Intercourse_? Who even says that anymore? I swear, you hipster types,” Louis mutters. Now it’s Harry’s turn to give him an unimpressed stare. “Don’t change the subject,” he scolds.

The light haired man pouts at him. Harry refuses to think it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. He’s not successful. “Fine, fine!” Louis calls out. “If I’m honest with you, everything’s a mess in my life right now. But I guess talking about it to someone who doesn’t even know me could relieve some pressure off my back.”

Louis lifts his head to look at the top bunk, just inches away from his head. Then turns back to Harry; inhales, exhales loudly and begins. “Eleanor and I’ve had this _thing_ between us for a while now. I met her at a friend’s party a while ago and we hit it off well enough to continue hooking up after the first night. It’s always been physical and it’s what we both wanted,” he runs his fingers through the sheets they’re sitting on, wandering eyes following the path.

Others could think this is the usual case of friends with benefits where one of them gets feelings involved and it all turns dark from then on; but Harry’s smart enough to recognize that’s not where this story is headed. So he keeps quiet and lets Louis continue.

“She was a constant, even if there was no emotional attachment there. Probably not even _friendship_. Just company, from time to time. Or rather on the regular, I’d say. I’ve been kinda _lost_ , if you want, since I finished high school. Not knowing what to do with my life eats me from the inside every day. Not knowing if going to Uni is the right thing because I don’t even know what I’d study. I’m pretty much a disappointment to my parents, and they’ve already lost all hope on my case. I choose to ignore it rather than to face it because it’s easier. Jumping from little jobs every few months.  Sometimes even moving from one city to another, just for the sake of a change of scenery.  I’ve been in London for a while now and Eleanor became a part of it somehow. But I don’t like it anymore. I’m starting to feel the itch from being in the same place for too long,” he swallows like it pains him, like the words coming out of his mouth leave his throat feeling raw.

“I guess I finally got sick of it again. I don’t know what it is about today, but it was like I realized there’s still something missing in my puzzle. It wasn’t fun anymore. I didn’t want to be here with her no more. The fact that I’m going nowhere in life weights me down once more. It gets lonely after a while, you know. I’ve been living this life for five years now. Sometimes I feel like an empty shell where nothing ever fits.” The end of his venting culminates in what could almost be considered as a whisper.

Harry can’t find it in himself to resist the sudden urge to protect this small, delicate being. Tough on the outside but fragile on the inside. He’s leaning his body forward and enveloping Louis in a hug before he knows it. It startles a gasp out of the blue eyed man but he returns the hug as fervently as it’s given to him.

When they pull apart Harry glances down into Louis’ blue blue eyes. He’s able to perceive the brokenness there, the uncertainty. He doesn’t _know_ how to fix it but he _wants_ to, with all he has.

Apart from the fact that he makes things a bigger deal than they really are, Harry is very impulsive. Not many know about it because he’s managed to control it through the years. Fame and recklessness is never a good combination. He feels it right now. He feels the need to act on his instincts, without care; he just wants to let go. So he does.

One moment he’s looking into the deep void of Louis’ eyes, like the galaxies they are, and the next he’s leaning closer. Louis isn’t stopping him and he’s not gonna stop himself either. When their lips finally meet, it’s not like in the movies. There’s no fireworks, no sparkling spots behind his eyelids, no going to heaven stuff. Instead he feels warmth, spreading all over his body. He feels the softness of Louis’ lips against his, embracing it with every fiber of his entire being. It’s not electric shocks going through his veins; it’s gentle touches and gasps every time their mouth part to breathe. It’s suffocating in each other. It’s a connection they’ve somehow created from nowhere, even though they barely know each other.

Harry’s mother used to tell him he was a hopeless romantic right from the start. This doesn’t feel like a simple romantic act. It feels _right_. He doesn’t believe in soul mates, because the idea is a bit silly, isn’t it? What if your soul mate lives across the world and you never get to meet them?  Does that mean you’re gonna be unhappy forever even if you find someone to love and that loves you back? _But_ he is a big believer in the fact that there are people you’re supposed to meet. Maybe you meet them at the wrong place and time or maybe you don’t.

He thinks he met Louis on the right time space, and that’s enough for him.

Harry lifts his hands up and cradles Louis’ face like he’s a treasure he’s just found and doesn’t want to lose. He tilts his head and when their tongues meet it’s a new experience all over again. There’s no way to describe it. He suddenly feels safe and he’s pretty sure Louis’ feeling the same, if the way he he clings to Harry like he never wants to let go is anything to go by.

At some point Louis climbs into Harry lap as they keep kissing and starts pulling on the latter’s long hair nonstop; which brings Harry to moan nonstop into Louis’ mouth.

They stay a few minutes there, just kissing, and feeling each other’s presence so close till they can’t even differentiate whose limb belongs to whom.

Louis is the one to detach their mouth first, just a few inches of space between them.  “You know that feeling when you’re in a pool, submerged under the water and it starts to rain, so when you come up to the surface looking for air you only feel more water. And suddenly you’re surrounded by it and you feel like you’re drowning and you feel helpless, like you can’t escape it?” he asks quietly, his voice wavering slightly. Harry’s never seen it that way but nods anyway.

“Harry?” Louis breathes.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t wanna drown anymore.”

So Harry kisses him again, more fiercely than last time. “I won’t let you,” he mutters under his breath.

The next thing he knows is them frantically trying to get the other naked; Louis helping him get rid of his sweater and Harry helping him get out of his long sleeved shirt. In the following minutes, they manage to get out of out their clothing just as Louis makes Harry sink to the floor, his back leaning against the side of the bunk. Louis then sits again on the other’s lap and adjusts himself to a more comfortable position with Harry’s cock snuggled between his ass cheeks as he starts to grind at a ridiculously slow pace. He doesn’t even seem to be making it on purpose. His eyes blissfully closed and his lips slightly ajar; arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as Harry’s arms wrap themselves around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between them.

Harry can’t keep himself from leaning forward, his mouth to Louis’ ear, licking the shell of it, sending shivers down the smaller boy’s body while he murmurs praises, his hands travelling all around his body. “Baby, you’re so beautiful. Taste sweet like cinnamon,” he tells him, kissing every inch of skin he can manage to get his lips on. From Louis’ mouth to his face to his neck and shoulders and back again.

“I can’t believe I found you. You feel like my missing piece. I’ll love you until the end of times, honey. I’ll never let your drown and you’ll never feel like an empty shell again. I would have waited a million years. But now that I have you,” Harry pauses to place frame Louis’ face between his hand and make him look at him in the eyes. He’s crying. Tears streaming down his face but the watery smile he gives Harry is enough to tell him it’s okay. They’re not sad tears anymore, never again. They’re happy tears, like he was following the same string of thoughts Harry had without him having to voice it out loud.

He continues what he started to say before he finally loses himself in Louis and let’s his body take over. “Louis, honey, whatever happens, whatever you decide to do next, promise you’ll remember that you’re mine,” he drawls, eyes starting to water as well. Louis’ tears are flowing so hard Harry worries a bit. “Baby, can you see through the tears?” he asks chuckling a bit when Louis nods earnestly, laughing a bit as he closes his eyes, trying to clear his view a bit. He looks so small and precious in this moment and Harry loves him so much already.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” he whispers in the quietness of the bus.

Louis’ eyelids flutter open, eyes clearer and tears slowing by the second. It’s almost inaudible, and if they weren’t pressed so close to each other Harry thinks he could’ve missed it when he mumbles, “No. But I’m starting to.” And then, “I promise.” It takes Harry a few seconds to connect Louis’ response to his previous request but the instant he does he’s all over his sunshine again and they’re both laughing and kissing and it’s emotional and lovely, something Louis thought he’ll never experience.

They’re so absorbed in the moment that it takes them a bit by surprise when Louis grinds down a little harder than expected, with Harry’s cock still nestled between his cheeks. They both moan at the feeling and Louis is the one to finally pant out, “Where’s the lube? We need lube. And condoms. Harry!” finishing with an exasperated and impatient sigh.

Harry’s beaming. Grin so wide he thinks he looks a bit like the Cheshire cat, but the soft smile Louis gives him in return tells him it’s okay. He’s not alone in this.

When he returns back to the matters at hand it’s to gently stretch his right arm, careful not to jostle Louis out of his lap, to open one of the drawers situated beneath the bunk. He blindly looks inside for what they need, praying there’s still some stuff in there. Harry and the other three usually have their own stash of things each for moments like these, but since they’re all sleeping in the bus and the barriers of privacy and personal space became blurred from day one, they decided to keep a shared drawer where they’d keep anything any of them would need. It’s come quite handy though the years, but right now Harry’s _especially_ grateful for it. He needs to buy them all a fruit basket, or maybe not. He’ll think about it later.

Harry takes a travel sized bottle of what surely is lube, and a couple of condoms he touches that are lying around. Louis’ already working on a love bite on his neck when he straightens up again. He pulls back to admire his work and gives Harry a dazing smile of self-satisfaction. Harry wants to devour him. So he proceeds to do just that.

He lets the items falls to the floor on his side to cradle Louis’ head back into his hand. His hair is feathery soft and Harry thinks he’ll never get enough of Louis. Of every part of him there is to know. And they’re being reckless, Harry knows, falling into this thing they’re now creating. But the truth is, they have the rest of their lives to figure it out, and right now it feels like the _rightest_ decision, for lack of a better word, he’s ever made.

Louis starts whining into his mouth when Harry works his left hand lower down his body, inch by inch, torturously slow until it finds his ass. He squeezes one cheek into his fingers and Louis grinds down subconsciously looking for more while Harry occupies his mouth with deep and lengthy kisses. When he finally ghosts his pointer finger over Louis’ hole, the smaller man gives them some space to breathe out a, “Hurry up. We don’t have all night.”

Harry grins down at him and pecks his lips because he can’t resist how adorable the blue eyed boy looks right now. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t be so pushy if you weren’t such a tease,” Louis scoffs.

“I don’t mind. I like it when you speak up your mind,” giving Louis a fond look. And the reaction is _magnificent_ to say the least. “Shut up,” Louis mutters staring down at his hands on Harry’s chest, his blush still visible from this angle. Harry will never get over how lovely this boy is. _His_ boy.

While Louis is distracted, still brooding like the angry kitten he is, Harry grabs the bottle of lube, uncaps it and coats the fingers on his right hand the best he can without disturbing Louis, who now seems quite focused on the tattoos on Harry’s chest. Tracing the birds on his collarbones in an almost reverent way. It’s so nice.

He gets Louis’ attention back on himself with a hand on his waist, the other slowly making his way between his cheeks, touching and teasing his hole until the boy on top of him starts to push backwards silently asking for Harry to get a move one. Their eyes are staring intently into each other and neither of their gazes drop as Harry finally pushes one finger inside, his other hand resting on Louis’ hip, thumb rubbing circles into the skin.

Harry starts in a slow pace, just like everything he’s done so far. Louis’ eyes still showing the impatience he’s feeling inside but not saying anything. He lets Harry fully control the pace and when he pushes the second finger inside, a tiny gasp leaves Louis’ slightly open mouth. Louis’ hands edge unhurriedly from Harry’s chest to the back of his head, where he suddenly grabs two handfuls of hair and quickly yanks hard enough to tilt Harry’s head backward, exposing the green eyed man’s throat and said man letting out the deepest moan Louis’ ever heard.

Louis starts grazing his lips though Harry neck, the latter adding a third finger into the tightness of Louis’ insides, lettering it with kisses until he gets to Harry’s mouth giving it a soft peck and moving sideways to speak directly into the other’s ear. “Give it to me, c’mon.” Another kiss left behind Harry’s ear. He can practically feel the corner of Louis’ mouth twitching into a half-smile before he says, “I love you honey, I’m ready to go.” And that’s all it takes for Harry to slip his fingers out of Louis’ heat and opening a condom with the speed of light. Gathering as much lube as he can on his palm before coating his cock in it, careful not to squeeze too hard because he already feels so on edge and he isn’t even inside of Louis yet.

It’s glorious when Harry makes his way inside at last. They’re back to kissing, tongues exploring the other’s mouth like they’re discovering a new continent they need to conquer. It’s dirty and messy and passionate and everything they never knew they needed. It takes a few minutes for Louis to get used to Harry’s size, but when he gives him the _go ahead_ Harry snaps his hips upward and it all spirals from there.

They become a mess of pants and whines and grunts. Harry chanting praises to Louis’ body and maybe an incoherent sonnet makes it out without his permission. Louis finds himself reduced to _yeah yeah yeah’s_ and _uh uh uh’s_ every time Harry cants his hips up chasing the right angle, and when he finds it it takes all Louis has not to combust and cum right then and there.

They’re both at the verge of cumming when Harry starts babbling through his moans. “Baby – _ugh_ , _oh my god_. Baby, you’re so perfect.  I can’t believe I get to have you. I love you so much. You’re so beautiful. And you’re all mine. _Ngh_ , _fuck_. Baby, please, please, stay with me, stay.” He keeps thrusting up into Louis and he should be surely tired already because Louis has barely moved since they started, but he keeps snapping his hips up more determined than ever and Louis’ brain has turned into mush from the pleasure continuously given to him.

Needless to say it’s a proper struggle when Louis manages to answer Harry’s pleads with a, “Yeah, yes. Harry, _oh my god. Fuck_. I’m all yours _. Yeah_. I, I’ll. _Ungh_. I’ll stay.”

Louis’ arms wrap tighter around Harry’s neck and Harry’s arms make his way around Louis to hold him even tighter and it feels like they’ve been on this floor forever when in reality it couldn’t have been more than an hour. Both their heads are tucked into each other’s necks. And just as Harry mumbles between grunts, “Fuck, you’re all I’ve ever wanted.” Louis cums, harder than he’s ever cum. Harry following suit after Louis tightens impossibly around him.

They stay there, folded into each other until it begins to feel uncomfortable and the spunk on their chest starts to dry.

After Harry manages to get enough force to untangle them and clean them both, he tucks Louis into the closest bunk, leaving him just to turn off the lights of the room. He returns immediately to Louis’ side to cuddle him up close, hand in tracing patterns into Louis’ back and the latter rests his head on the bigger man’s chest. They’re quiet for a while and just as they about to drift off to sleep, Harry speaks up.

“Come on tour with me?” he asks shyly, still afraid of rejection.

A pregnant pause invades the quiet bus, and then.

“Okay,” Harry hears Louis breathing out. And then again, “Okay, I’ll come with you.”

And that’s that.

•••

Louis wakes up to soft light invading the room. Sunlight coming through the open curtains they forgot to close, _again_.

He’s sweating a bit, even with the AC blasting frigid air around the quiet space. It probably has to do with the body pressed to his back, from head to toe. No. It _definitely_ has to do with the body pressed to his back. He turns slowly around the arms grabbing him close around his waist, careful not to wake the sleeping body behind him.

No such luck.

When he finally turns around, facing the curly haired man who was dead weight just a few seconds before, he subconsciously starts smiling until it takes over his whole face, mouth stretching wide and eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Hi,” Harry whispers back, a similar smile pushing at the corners of his lips.

“I love you,” Louis says because there’s not a single day he doesn’t feel like it’s one of the first things he wants to say since he wakes up.

“And I love you,” his boyfriend replies because there’s not a day that goes by without him indulging Louis.  It maybe also is because he feels the same as Louis. But, _details_.

The day they met, after their _hot encounter_ , as the others like to tease them with, they woke up and talked and talked and talked, about everything and nothing, about meaningless things and meaningful ones, about their lives and experiences. Until Harry’s tour manager interrupted them. He came searching for Harry to tell him that it was time to get ready. After finding them still naked beneath the bunks’ comforter, he gave them the most unimpressed look ever seen. Not because Harry slept around so much it was predictable but because Paul had seen everything there is to see when it comes to these boys and finding Harry cuddling with a stranger in one of the bunks with their clothes thrown all around the floor wasn’t shocking. He’s surely seen worse.

He told Harry to _hurry the hell up and get ready kid_ and after a few seconds of examining Louis up and down – and Harry trying his best to convince him – he gave him a backstage pass with an apprehensive look. It probably wasn’t the sagest decision but he let Louis pass through security and into the venue that afternoon. They all joke about how he took an instant shinning to him after seeing Louis’ dazing looks. Nevertheless, Louis still gets a little teary eyed when he remembers. If it wasn’t for Paul’s wary demeanor _but_ breakable surface he wouldn’t be where he is now.

Louis’ life was never easy. And during a big part of it he felt so lost he couldn’t have ever imagined he’d be where he is now.  And it’s cliché as fuck. But even if Harry wasn’t in such a popular band, _them_ meeting would still be Louis’ favorite memory. And he’s sure they’ve probably met in a million different ways in a million different universes; but _this_ one, with Harry next to him, lying in a random hotel bed beneath soft sheets, looking at him like he’s the center of his whole universe… Louis thinks this is a good one, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

•••

_A world only worth living if somebody is loving you,_

_Baby now you do._

_– Lana Del Rey_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i know the ending was rushed, but.
> 
>    
> [tumblr](http://genuinelyinlove.tumblr.com/)


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